


Lost (and Found)

by ellfie



Series: how to raise a small green baby [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: hello will the father of a small green child please come to the front, i too will pick up lost children, mando loses child, mando will never admit to panicking, ofc finds child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellfie/pseuds/ellfie
Summary: Mandalorians did not panic.Dyn was definitely not panicking.“Small,” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, holding his hands about a foot apart, words tense and clipped to keep from shouting and shaking the man in front of him. “Green. Huge ears.”
Series: how to raise a small green baby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568566
Comments: 32
Kudos: 441





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok actually started what would be the beginning of Wiggling Fingers if I wrote this in order. In terms of organizing, I'll be creating a series to just put fics in as I accomplish them, which may be out of order who even knows. The one which would follow directly after this one will likely be added as a second chapter, but I'm shit at chaptered stories so I try to just make bite-sized ones instead. We'll see.
> 
> Naria is currently a humanoid female of whatever species you’d like to picture. The important parts of her character are not too focused on her species so feel free to have fun with it.
> 
> At the end are some further world-building notes.
> 
> Unbeta'd because when I spend too long on shit it never gets posted.

.x.

The Mandalorians prided themselves on being calm, collected, level-headed during even the most grueling of battles. They would stand and fight when others fled, held their aim steady while others shook, stood their ground like a mountain and attacked with the quick bite of lighting.   
  
Mandalorians did not panic.   
  
Dyn was definitely  _ not _ panicking.   
  
“Small,” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, holding his hands about a foot apart, words tense and clipped to keep from shouting and shaking the man in front of him. “Green. Huge ears.”   
  
“Mm....” the man rumbled at length, leaning back, one hand on his impressive belly and the other rubbing his less impressive mustache. “No… don’t sound familiar.”

Dyn grit his teeth.

He turned and marched away without a word, movements feeling jerky and clunky that had nothing to do with the sting of his aching muscles. The crash really could have been worse. Granted, the pounding in his head said it may be possible he had missed some other important injury, but he was already half a day behind Tarak, the bounty hunter who shot him down onto the planet’s surface. Which put too much time and distance between Dyn and the kid. He could be halfway across the galaxy by now, or dead.

He…

He couldn’t think about that.

Dyn tapped the filters of his helmet again, trying to pick up a signature that matched the kid’s, or Tarak’s, to no avail. Nothing seemed to match, and his sensors were muddled with the overlap of creatures walking these paths. Taeda was something between a large village and a small city, a mix of dirt paths and smooth ones, most homes built were permanent, strong, and with some individual flare, and plenty of shops that ranged from practical to nearly pointless. It was a little too big for Dyn’s tastes right now, though would be useful for repairing his ship and restocking supplies once he found the kid.

“I’m looking for a child,” the Mandalorian gasped, breaths coming harder, sounding even more ragad through his helmet. “Small. Green.”   
  
The old woman stared at him like he was asking for a million credits. “Only Mirialan we got ‘round here is older than me.”

“No, not--” Dyn growled, let out a breath, shook his head once. “Nevermind.”

Dyn had protected the kid from the worst of the crash, this he knew. Though he recalled a strange shift in the air and his own bones that suggested the kid had protected him in turn. But the landing was still rough, Dyn slipping in and out of consciousness with his arms still wrapped around the child. The terrifying moment when the child had gone limp, exhausted, unable to fight the purple hands that lifted him up and away. Dyn recalled the way his heart raced, skin went cold, his ragged, whispered  _ No…! _ As the Devaronian stole the child from his arms, and blasted the Mandalorian in the gut.

He was… not as healed as he should be. But he’d have time for that later. When the child was safe. Back in his arms. He’d find the child, find Sid Tarak, and shove a blaster into the Devaronian’s mouth and shoot out his skull.

.x.

Today was her free day. The all day co-op she helped run once a week was yesterday, leaving today open to reflect on the lessons, the children, and take a breather from them both. She’d pick back up tutoring and care-taking as the week went on, but for now she had some time to do as she pleased.

Which currently meant visiting the market. It was a nice day, sunny with enough chill to be comfortable, so strolling along the streets of Taeda was pleasant, even with the flow of other people out on errands too. Naria shifted the bag on her shoulder, glancing around at the stalls of food, examining apples. Dull work, but sometimes dull was relaxing.

“Better be careful, young lady,” said the old, leathery Weequay male that ran the stall. He tapped his head then pointed vaguely behind and above her. “Saw something streaking across the sky a couple hours back. Seems like trouble. You and the young ones should stay in today.”

Naria frowned, studied him a moment. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss, and figured maybe the Weequay just saw a passing meteor while drunk. “Thanks for your concern. But I can’t recall the last time we’ve had any real trouble of any note. I think we’ll be okay.”

He shrugged, drank from a flask and waved a hand. “Stay sharp.”

Naria raised a brow and somewhat awkwardly offered him some coin for the half peck of apples she’d chosen, and the male just nodded and barely got up from his chair to accept them. She eyed him a bit as she left, then shook her head as she watched him take another swig from his flask. Just a strange Weequay still unused to the quiet life Taeda could be, she was sure. While the town had its share of problems like any other, Naria hadn’t felt like leaving over the years as she overall felt pretty safe, being a young woman living alone -- and that was saying something. She wasn’t sure of another place in the galaxy she could get to that she could live on her own without  _ huge _ risk of getting attacked or killed. Where kids could trot around the market place without worry of keeping a tight hold on their hands. Children didn’t have to stay glued to their parent’s skirts in fear of getting taken, but -- 

But they still were not usually left wandering alone, staring up at the world around as if lost.

Naria immediately caught the way people moved around the creature like river around a stone, how tiny it was, and how there was certainly no one near by it knew by the way it’s head turned slowly this way and that, it’s huge ears drooped down.

Naria had never seen one of it’s kind, but she recognized a child in need. She glanced around then trotted up to him, slowing as she neared. “Hey there,” she cooed softly, gaining the child’s attention. He stared up at her with huge, dark eyes, which were wet and sad and intelligent. A small, scared sound came from him, and he seemed to hold his little green claws closer to himself.

Naria squatted down, smoothing out her tunic and setting down her bag of apples, watching the little one’s gaze move slowly between her movements. “It’s all right. Are you lost?”

His ears twitched, head cocked, a little worried coo sounding.

Naria nodded. “I know it’s scary.” She held a hand loosely out. “Would you like to come here? Want me to help?”

The child shifted a little, seemed to study her, ears moving as he did, and his little mouth opened and closed with soft, thoughtful coos and grunts as Naria remained patiently offering him a hand. Her knees were starting to ache by the time he toddled forwards, lifted one claw up and eyeing her as if waiting for her to snatch him up. She just lifted her palm a little higher, and he finally toddled up to her, practically tripping into her knees. She touched his rough, green hand then slowly lifted him up, rising to her feet with her bag slung on one shoulder and the child tucked to her other side.

“There we go. Good job. You’re a brave little one, aren’t you?”

His ears perked up, and he tipped his head again, and he blinked slow, a small smile tugging up his mouth. Naria smiled back at him, and it seemed to relax him. “It’ll be okay. You’re not alone now. We’ll find your family. Until then, are you hungry?” 

Oh, he  _ really _ perked up at that, ears raising up high, and he waved his little arms, gurgled happily. Naria laughed, pulled out an apple and took a bite out of it to get it started, then let him hold the rest, watching with a giggle as he gnawed at it. “All right, then. You work on that, and I’ll look around for you while I pick up a few more things. Sound good?” He looked at her, mouth full of apple and she laughed. “Good.”\

The next several hours cropped up nothing but strange looks and several questions of  _ What the hell is that? _ Though a few of the people she knew just shrugged and said, “New kid, Naria?”

“For now,” she said back with a shrug, uncertain what to do now that no family had been found. In the past when she found lost or crying children, reuniting them with their parents or siblings was easy, always done in less than an hour so long as she kept an eye out for twitchy, worried adults or if the child was old enough to give her their name and parent’s descriptions.

None of that was the case with this little green fella. 

“Well,” Naria frowned, looking around the square one last time before refocusing on the baby, who did the same, ears drooping. “I guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?” The baby may be unable to talk, but he clearly understood, as his entire being sagged. “Hey there,” Naria hummed, jostling him a little, cupping the back of his head with her free hand. “It’ll be all right. We’re not giving up. But you look like you need a nap, and a bath.”

The child grumbled, squirmed, but not away so she counted that as a win. “I know,” she booped his nose, to which his eyes went wide so she laughed and did it again, and his little claws caught her finger, held it in place as he stared at it, then tugged it down to his mouth. Naria laughed and wiggled it out of his grasp. “Ok, and some more food, and something to teeth on it seems. Come on.”

.x.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian keeps searching... and stabbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have a little more of the thing i apparently only manage bite size snacks

The Mandalorian was on his last thread of patience. It had been at least ten hours since the child was pulled from his arms, and there was still no sign of him. Every single person in this town was _ useless _ and he was a breath away from blasting holes in walls from sheet frustration. And the building, biting fear. What had happened to the child? Where had Tarak taken him? What if he was too late?

He stormed into the seedier side of town, slipping into a bar, and scoped out his options. And saw a tall, purple-skinned Devarian.

Dyn lunged, grabbing him by one of his horns and shoving his blaster into his face before Tarak knew what had hit him. Tarak’s eyes widened and he held up his hands even as Dyn started barking at him. “Where is he!? What did you do with him!?”

“What? I--”

Dyn shoved the blaster against the male’s cheek, pressing it hard into his skin. “Answer me,  _ demagolka! _ ”

“Sir--” Dyn snapped his head towards the new voice, though his grip on the blaster and Tarak remained firm even as he focused on the large human man that was coming up to him, hands raised, frown on his face. “I appreciate you have business, but there’s no weapons allowed here. We don’t want any trouble--”

Dyn didn’t have  _ time _ for playing nice. He snapped back to Tarak and reluctantly holstered his weapon, watching as the two other men slowly relaxed.

Then he grabbed his knife and drove it into Tarak’s hand, impaling it onto the table. Tarak jolted and howled, started cursing, and the human was babbling something that Dyn did not have the patience for.   
  
“Where,” he growled, digging the knife deeper, giving it a turn with every snarled word, enjoying the cries of pain. “Is. The child?”

“ _ Fuck!  _ I don’t know, I swear! I swear, Mando, I don’t! He -- oh fuck -- the l-little green brat  _ bit _ me and -- fuck -- he, he did some weird  _ shit _ and somehow -- somehow pushed me straight into a, a ravine --  _ fucking hell -- _

Dyn yanked the knife free, prompting a spray of blood that dotted his beskar, and Tarak paled, clasping his hand to try and staunch the flow. “Where’s the fob.”

“Wh-what?” Dyn yanked at Tarak’s horn until his head was twisted down, and set his knife on his jumping throat. “Broken! It broke! Here -- it’s, it’s in my left pocket, you can have it! You and the green brat aren’t worth the bounty!” Dyn kept the knife to his throat and shoved his hand into said pocket, pulling out the broken tracker. He pocketed it and refocused on the panting, trembling Devaronian. 

“Leave.”

“Wh--”   
  
“ _ Leave. _ Don’t turn back. Get out of this town, off the planet, and out of the entire sector. If I see your face again, this,” he flipped the knife into a reverse grip, then slammed it down into the chair between Tarak’s legs, enjoying the way he jumped and whimpered. “Goes here first.”

The Mandalorian pulled his knife free, then took half a step back, watching with the first bit of satisfaction all day as the other bounty hunter scurried away like a rat, fumbling out the exit without looking back.

The human man, however, was frowning deeply at him, though his hands were up and loose, placating. “Mandalorian or no, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Dyn glared at the man from beneath his helmet, wondering for a long, tense moment what he would do if Dyn refused. But he let his better sense win out, sheathing the knife and giving him a slight nod, turning to go.

“Wait!” He heard someone call, though only paused for a half step when the new man continued in a slurring voice, “Are you really a Mandalorian?” Dyn didn’t care, didn’t have time to play mysterious passerby with a drunkard or even hear out a job offer. He needed to find the kid, and he was back at square one. Maybe he could repair the tracker… “You’re looking for a green kid?”

Dyn froze. Turned. Saw the man’s eyes widen like a frightened animal with the force of the Mandalorian’s attention. The human started babbling. “M-my wife. Told me she saw a strange looking green thing today.”

“Describe him.”

“Uh -- said -- I think -- a little thing. Big eyes. Floppy ears?”

Dyn’s heart hammered in his chest. He stalked forwards, struggling to make his movements less intimidating when the man started backing away. “Where?”

“W-With Naria. Good lass. Helps our boy--”

“ _ Where? _ ”

He managed to get slurred, fumbled directions from the man, then stalks out into the dim lights of the streets as the evening drags into the night. His voice falls soft and raggad into the darkness.

“I’m coming, _ad’ika_.”

.x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have y'all listened to the full soundtracks of the first five eps? They're all epic and titled in a way which so nicely outlines each scene. 10/10 highly recommend esp when writing mando shit


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dyn and Naria in your classic meet-cute or... meet... fight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your comments! They've greatly encouraged me!! I'm always struggling to write anything chaptered, and anything with an OC, and tbh anything Star Wars, so all of your encouragements have really helped!

The location and directions the drunk gave pushed Dyn to the other end of town, and while usually he could walk for miles no problem, his chest was aching, his knee hurt, breathing was becoming a pain, and his arm twinged and felt hot and tight against his gauntlet. A few broken ribs, perhaps, and sprained arm, likely. Perhaps a concussion, with how his head pounded as well, but he was writing that off as stress, because everything in him was pounding, desperate to find the child.

The building he stopped in front of was small, off-white, and made of smooth stone in a style reminiscent of Tatooine. It shared a wall with another building, but it curved around a corner into a small alleyway, a few closed windows dotting both sides, and another door in the back. He inspected this one first, found it a simple, narrow storage space rather than any sort of extra exit. So he rounded back to the front, palmed his blaster, and eased the door open.

Inside was a modest room, with a worn looking sofa and a few shelves and -- a cradle. He stepped further in, could see a bit of green, and was about to rush over when he heard a clatter.

“What the hell!?” A woman shouted, holding up her hands when Dyn aimed his blaster at her. “Who are you? Get out!”

He ignored her, stalked further into the room, keeping his blaster raised. He kept his attention divided between her and the cradle, moving closer to it, desperate to see if the child was really resting in it. But moving closer to the kid seemed to set the woman off and she completely ignored the blaster, running over to put herself between him and the cradle, shouting, “I said get out!”

Dyn didn’t have time for this. He needed his kid, needed to make sure he was okay, needed to keep him close so he could protect him from the likes of Sid Tarak and the dozens of others that had already tried and failed to kill them. One woman was nothing. He shoved her aside with a roughness he wouldn’t have were he in his right mind. She yelped, didn’t register as further threat, so he looked down into the cradle. 

The child.

Sleeping peacefully.

A breath left him, his shoulders sagged as the weight of his worries fell from them, and he watched the way the child’s little body rose and fell with his breathing, completely at ease. He reached in to smooth out the wrinkle of his brow -- when something slammed into the back of his head and his vision blurred.

Dyn grunted, caught himself on the edge of the crib, his HUD fizzing in and out and darkness krept on the edges of his vision, and he felt himself being shoved away. He stumbled, refocused, saw the woman scoop up the child, a long metal pipe clattering to the ground from her hands, and she ran for the door.

No! He growled and lunged, grabbed her, shoved her up against a wall with a thump. She cried out, held the child tighter, not letting go when he tried to pry her grip away, tried to get to his kid. She tried to stomp on his foot to no avail, and then one small hand lashed out to his neck, pushing and pressing as she still struggled and squirmed, but her hand was small and her pressure not enough to be anything other than annoying through his protective layers. She started clawing up his neck, under his helmet, and it sent a jolt of panic down his spine. He smacked her hand away then caught it in a vice grip, yanking it up so she might loosen her other grip.

Then he heard a coo.

They both froze, looked down. The child’s huge brown eyes blinked open, and his ears perked up, flapping gently, and he squirmed until his arms were free and he reached out, little green claws wiggling until they clinked gently against his helmet.

Dyn let out a breath and smiled. Something in his chest loosened, warmed. “Hello, ad’ika.”

The woman had stopped fighting, just stood there, between him and the wall, looking between him and the child. “Are you… Is he… yours?”

Dyn held one of his little hands, rubbed his thumb over his palm, taking in the child’s soft, familiar coos. “Yes.”

“Oh.” She said nothing else, and Dyn was fine with the silence, taking in the sight of his unharmed child. “We were looking for you.”

That finally drew his attention to her proper. He looked up, studied her face -- soft, young, sweet looking -- and the ways her brows were pinched together, her eyes kept moving between him and the child, how she was still cradling him half against herself.

“Oh,” Dyn repeated, feeling foolish. She had never been a threat at all, had she? “You… uh…”

She raised her brows, waiting for him to continue, and when he was too slow she said, “Found him? Wandering alone in the market place? Yes.” The heavy judgement of her tone weighed him down and he tipped his chin down, studied the child again. Her grip on the child suddenly tightened and she held him closer, and Dyn very nearly broke her wrist in response. “You’re -- a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Is he -- he’s a child. He’s not some, some escaped convict, he’s not some bounty for you to take in.”

“No.” Dyn said, firm and low, his voice softening as he watched the child look between them curiously. “Not to me.”

She still seemed reluctant, but the child was wiggling insistently -- good boy, come here, he thought -- and as soon as her grip loosened Dyn scooped him out of her arms, cradled him close. “Su cuy’gar, ad’ika,” he greeted softly, encouraged by the child’s happy coos and perky ears. He looked good, happy. Unharmed. Rested, even.

Dyn finally refocused on the woman, who was still standing against the wall, watching him warily, rubbing her wrist. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for her suspicion. He’d thought her a threat, and she wasn’t the one storming into one’s home in full armor with a blaster ready.

“He napped for a while,” she started when he remained silently staring for too long. “A good few hours, fell asleep before I got home. Woke up hungry, devoured two more apples and a bread loaf the size of his head, then fell asleep again.” She listed it all off like some report, like having a child suddenly in her care was of no surprise or concern like it was for him. He kept staring. Her cheeks began to flush, and she frowns as if to make up for it. 

“Thank you,” he managed, soft and gruff but genuine. Of all the people his child could’ve been scooped up by, he’s grateful he found the arms of this one.

“You’re, uh, welcome.” She stares at him like she isn’t sure what to make of him -- Dyn can’t blame her, he’s not sure what to make of himself most days. He’s more concerned right now with keeping his vision focused on the child, willing away the white edging in. He doesn’t realize he’s breathing raggedly until the baby’s ears droop and he lets out a concerned murmur. A hand hovers near his vision and he flinches, angles the child away, only to see the woman rear back again with her hands up. “Hey -- no -- it’s -- are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He certainly doesn’t feel it, and even the kid looks unimpressed with his lie.

“You have blood on your helmet.”

He shakes his head -- oh, no, that was a mistake -- and stops abruptly when it aches. “Not mine.”

The woman squints, makes a face, but he’s having trouble focusing on her, everything seems a little blurry now, and he can’t seem to catch his breath and every breath he does manage stabs his chest. He catches himself swaying, wincing as it aggravated his already aching leg.

“Yeah, okay, no,” she practically corrals him over to a sofa, which he sinks into merely because the backs of his knees hit it, and there’s nowhere else to go between it and the woman.

She reaches for him again, slow, but her hand is coming for his helmet and he balks. “No.”

“But--”

“No.” 

The child warbles worriedly, touching his helmet and he catches his little hands again, rubs them gently, focuses on his breathing. In, out. In, out. In…

.x.

The Mandalorian slumps.

Naria jumps forwards to support the child as the Mandalorian’s arms slowly slide away, loosened unwillingly, and the child slides down his beskar chest plate and manages to plant his little feet on the man’s thighs, soft cries getting louder as he taps on the man’s helmet. Naria keeps a hand at his back for a moment to support, and studies the strange bounty hunter. Clearly injured, probably a head wound, and refusing to let her so much as touch his helmet. Not to mention the way he came practically blasting into her home, attacking her like some crazed berserker rather than the cool, calculated soldiers she’d heard about.

Then again, kids did that to you.

“Come here, darling,” she murmured, finally scooping the child up again despite his protests. “I know, I know, but daddy is hurting, and we don’t want you accidently stepping on a wound. Come on…” He cooed mournfully, pressing the side of his face against her chest, big eyes still on the Mandalorian. She stroked his strange little head, then leaned in and reached a hand out. She wasn’t sure what to do, her hand just hovering there. She knew basic first aid, but that was for children, not for full grown men in armor that looked fused to his thick clothes that covered him literally head to toe, with some tradition to never take off.

“Shit,” she murmured, then blinked down at the child who eyed her curiously. “Nope, I didn’t say that, shh.”

After some time debating, she set the child down then carefully, with no small amount of effort, maneuvered the Mandalorian until he was laying down on the sofa, head propped up on a pillow. She leaned in close, ear near the would be mouth of his helmet, and hovered a hand over his chest plate, holding her breath as she listened for his.

In… out… in… out..

That was something, at least.

“Well,” Naria straightened up again and let out a breath, looked down at the child who was trying to scramble onto the sofa. “Looks like you’re staying a little longer.” The child paused, hanging off the cushion, staring at her, then managed to climb up. “Hey--” he moved over the Mandalorian’s legs, but when he started crawling up his stomach she caught him despite his cries and wiggles. “Nope, no, you’re gonna hurt him. Hold on -- I know you missed him, just -- okay hold on, stay still--” she managed to carefully settle his small mass in the crook of the Mandalorian’s arm, against the back of the couch, and the child hummed and cuddled up to him, closed his eyes, and set his tiny, green hand over the silver beskar.

Naria couldn’t help but smile.

.x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've yet to decide how far this particular story will go and what other snipets will just stand on their own in the series like Wiggling Fingers. I have many ideas, but I'm figuring this out while I go.

**Author's Note:**

> Education for children here is primarily done privately, through parents or tutors, but there is also a co-op for all ages that is once a week and lasts all day. There’s no actual school, but there’s enough knowledge base and opportunities that parents don’t need to rely on just themselves. This also enables children to help parents in whatever field they are in (a la farming, helping at the store, taking care of siblings, household chores, etc.) Once children are older, they can pursue specialized apprenticeships or go to another city/off planet to an academy, university, etc.
> 
> The other bounty hunter I created’s name is Sid Tarak because I like the sound of it, but I'm also convinced I’ve heard it before and I have no idea if that’s some character somewhere else??? I just liked the sound of it so if it is someone else… let me know.
> 
> Taeda is a town on a planet that is currently unnamed or unchosen (I have half a mind to make it a town on Naboo). It’s in a temperate mountain-foothills climate. It’s not a huge impressive city like Theed but not quite as back-water as Sorgan and not as dangerous as Nervarro.  
> I actually know shit-all about Star Wars. Like i’m aware of most things about it, but I didn’t start watching The Mandalorian because it’s Star Wars. So. Like. Be gentle?


End file.
